


Black Water

by kai of the wild (nakamoon)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Childhood Friends, Dark Setting, Demons, Established DoJae, Gen, Horror, M/M, Mentions of terminal illness, Minor Character Death, Small Towns, be mindful of the tags, other than that...happy halloween
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-03 05:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakamoon/pseuds/kai%20of%20the%20wild
Summary: There are many things Doyoung regrets. He regrets not buying his mother a Christmas present last year. He regrets not keeping in contact with his childhood friends, he regrets being selfish with Jaehyun most of the time. Above all, he regrets summoning the devil all those years ago.Eleven years later, Doyoung regrets going back to where it all started.





	Black Water

**Author's Note:**

> happy... late halloween :)
> 
> just a little story that i could not for the life of me finish in time, so i decided to post in parts. hopefully this won't be too long, aprox. 4-5 chapters. this is defintely inspired by various horror stories, themes and authors, mostly stephen king's it and samuel bodin's marianne. a little note, this story doesn't revolve around dojae as a couple, as it's not really a romance au but relationships amongst the characters are really important.
> 
> sorry for any grammar mistakes, this has mostly been unedited and unbetaed since i really wanted to post as close to halloween as i could gfgf will do my best to edit asap.

>   
_ Blue, green, grey, white, or black; smooth, ruffled, or mountainous; that ocean is not silent. _

h. p. lovecraft

“Your mother is dead, Doyoung.”

The smooth sound of lead against paper doesn't stop, neither does the rain pattering against the window, filling in the silence.

“Doyoung.”

“I heard you the first time,”

“And you're just going to ignore me. That's fine. I can wait here until you finish your little paper.” The cigarette that he takes out of his coat pocket is expensive, placing it in his mouth as he sits down, eyes never leaving Doyoung.

Doyoung has never liked people staring at him, not when he was a child, certainly not now. Jaehyun is no exception even if he is Jaehyun. _ Especially _ if he’s Jaehyun: he has intent, unlike many others. He sees through him, as easy as he would look through clear glass.

“Stop smoking in my office.”

“Stop ignoring me.”

Doyoung slams his book, closing it. “I heard you the first time. I heard from my brother. I heard from my father. My mom died, Jaehyun, what do you want me to do?”

“Cry, maybe,” Jaehyun sighs, the butt of his cigarette touches a crystal ash pan, barely lit. He stands up, the crisp fabric of his burgundy coat bright against the otherwise dull background. “Or at least pretend you're sad.”

He sits on top of the desk without much grace, his plush thigh right in front of Doyoung's face. “I _ am _sad, a little,” Doyoung succumbs to the comfort of Jaehyun’s body warmth, planting his cheek against the other's thigh. “I hadn't seen her in more than a decade, Jaehyun. How sad can I really be? She hated me.”

“She didn't hate you,” Jaehyun scratches at his scalp, “How could she hate you?”

“You didn't know her,” he snorts, “You’re not allowed to comfort me with empty words.”

“I won't. But don't underestimate a mother's love. It’s simple Sociobiology.”

“Don't use any of your anthropology gibberish on me, professor,” Doyoung’s mouth curves in a half-smile, “It’s kind of attractive.”

“I would hope so,” Jaehyun returns the smile. He holds Doyoung's chin with gentleness, forcing him to look back at him. “Something’s bothering you, I would say it's the fact that your mother is dead. But then I wouldn't know you at all. What's up, Doyoung? What's up for real?”

He shakes his head, scoffing with slight amusement but never leaving Jaehyun’s touch. “The funeral is on Wednesday.”

“Two days from now.”

“In Bedrock.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow, his handsome features barely moving, “You don't want to go.”

“That would officially make me the shittiest son in the world,” he says, leaning back into his chair and the rain doesn't stop. Pitter-patter, heavy. “I have to go.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Jaehyun nods, jumping off the sandalwood desk, “I’ll finally meet your father.”

“Thank you,” Doyoung can breathe a little easier. Everything's better with Jaehyun, even hell would be better with Jaehyun.

It’s just that Doyoung isn’t sure if hell is worse than Bedrock.

∾

His feet are cold. Unbearably cold. Doyoung tries wiggling his toes but they ache, a dull pain that starts its way up.

He can feel Jaehyun’s warmth next to him, but, somehow, it doesn't reach Doyoung. He tries speaking but he can't, no sound comes out of his mouth and that's when the panic sets in. _ What's going on? _ His heartbeat quickens, he can feel the rush of blood coursing through him.

Doyoung closes his eyes because this sensation is familiar, not recent, but painfully familiar. _ Don't kill me_, is all he can think of, sweat dripping down his neck, pajama shirt sticking to his back, the feeling of absolute terror taking him hostage.

He can't open his eyes, but for once, Doyoung is glad. Even if he could, he wouldn't dare open them. Not right now, not when he can feel hot, _ moist _air breathing into his ear.

Hairs. Soft hairs tickling Doyoung’s cheek, as if daring him to open his eyes and see what's in front of him. With the beating of his heart in his throat, Doyoung resists. Who knows what will happen if he opens them? 

The minutes trickle by one by one and Doyoung stays petrified for what feels like eternity, each agonizing second a torture. Barely breathing, holding tight to his blanket, Doyoung resists like only he knows how. He wishes he didn't know how.

It's an hour, a minute, an eternity. Doyoung doesn't know. What he knows is that when he opens his eyes all he is met with is a wall and nothingness.

He stays awake for the rest of the night.

∾

Bedrock hasn't changed at all. He can already tell, even if his car is still miles away from the coastal town. He can taste the salted air, the sensation of mass isolation and solitude that creeps up to you the moment you step foot into town.

Doyoung doesn't miss it, he’s never done so. He’d always felt at odd in that place, always felt there was more than the shore made of rocks, more than the fishing docks and tiny houses and tiny stores. 

He was right because, for him, Boston was that _ more_ he had always longed for. Boston was home, it had been so for the past eleven years.

“You know what,” Jaehyun looks up from his phone, his chestnut hair soft under the sunlight, “I’m kind of excited about visiting. Bedrock has its own Wikipedia page. This is the only place in the Massachusetts coast where you can see Northern Lights near the ocean. We might get lucky and see some, Doyoung, isn't that neat?"

“You only say that because you’re a born and raised city boy,” Doyoung holds on to the steering wheel, the landscape in the background looking like a Monet painting of the current century - highways and roads with yellow lines, a pretty sunset in a background of pinks and yellows. “You get to think the little town in the middle of nowhere is quaint and adorable, take a few pictures, buy a few trinkets and then go on your merry way back to the city.”

“You’re right,” Jaehyun shrugs, “But I like the way you sound personally hurt by what I said. I think you may still like Bedrock, despite all your denials.”

Doyoung shakes his head, “It’s not a_ like_. It’s attachment. And not the good kind, Jaehyun. Bedrock and I are linked for life, that’s something I can’t change.”

“Well, as long as your family still lives here I suppose that's right,” he goes back to his phone, scrolling down and reading and soaking up all he can about Doyoung's hometown. It's a charming trait, at least for Doyoung, but then again, he finds the other's existence wholly charming.

The sky is gray, full of fat, heavy clouds. If Doyoung didn't know any better, he would think the sky is weeping for his mother.

But he does knows better; he knows the town weeps for no one, and that its sky, always looming and present in Bedrock, is eternally painted over with gray, no matter the day, no matter the season.

The view of the little uphill house sends shivers down Doyoung’s spine, prickly sensations that make his skin crawl. “It's just as ugly as I remember.”

“No,” Jaehyun shakes his head, staring at the two-storey house. “It's so picturesque, a little fence and everything.”

The Kims house is by no means a mansion, it never was, but it had always been deemed one of the biggest, nicest houses in Bedrock. It had one of the prettiest gardens too, his mom’s pride and joy. It had always been full of buttercups and roses, dotted splashes of color that fought well against the bleak weather of their coastal town.

All Doyoung can see now are dead twigs and dry leaves scattered across the house’s porch. Fitting, now that his mom is not there anymore. He supposes dad never had much of a green thumb, besides, he was probably getting too old to tend to such things. Gongmyung, even though he didn’t live too far away from their parent’s house, had never cared about delicate and small stuff such as gardening, always the brute and clumsy brother. Maybe Doyoung would’ve helped his mother out a bit, if he had been there.

“C’mon, let’s get this over with.” He clears his throat, getting out of the car before Jaehyun can start analyzing him again. The strong wind hits Doyoung, blowing the hair out of his face. He tightens his coat, an expensive one his boyfriend bought for him a few months ago, elegant and pricey and not appropriate against the almost boorish Bedrock landscape.

His father and brother should be inside, Doyoung is almost bitter at the fact no one has come out to welcome him.

“Doyoung,” Jaehyun exclaims, “Are those_ tombstones _in your garden?”

“They’re not mine,” he is quick to say, “Not my family’s. This house is old. Oldest in Bedrock as far as I know. They’ve been there for as long as I can remember.” He follows Jaehyun’s trail, both of them looking at the six mounds of broken down rock amongst the open garden. A garden of flowers and tombstones and somehow, Doyoung finds it completely normal, even after all this time.

“Charlotte Weinstein. Susanne Smith, Philippa Montgomery,” Jaehyun reads, “Talk about fucking eerie.”

_ Elizabeth Julian _ is the fourth name, Doyoung spent too much time as a child in this garden, he somehow memorized all four of the stones. The other two tombs were so old and decayed he never managed to get anything out of them. He remembers, back when he was eight and mostly friendless, he pretended the names belonged to little girls that once in a while came to play with him. Looking back on it, Doyoung now finds it perturbing and he’s kind of glad he never mentioned it to his parents.

“Let's get inside, it's starting to get cold,” he mumbles, latching an arm around Jaehyun, who is starting to sniffle from the drastic wind.

Unceremoniously, Doyoung knocks on the front door, an old thing made of dark wood. He's trying not to overthink, lest he's going to start getting headaches. The only thing keeping him somewhat sane is Jaehyun’s arm linked to his.

The door opens with a squeak and a man with graying hair and a blue vest, appears at the threshold. It's surreal, to say the least. Doyoung tries to say something, but no sound comes out as he opens his mouth. He hasn't seen his father in the flesh in over a decade. He’d like to say he looks good for his age, but the truth is, the years have taken a toll on Dohyun Kim.

“You grew tall,” is what his dad says first. There's a beat of silence before Doyoung presses his lips in an awkward smile.

“I’m taller than you now.”

His father nods, slow, never taking his eyes off him. Doyoung jumps a little when his father leans forward for a hug. He’s always been awkward, both of them. Gongmyung and their mother were the open books. If Gongmyung was an open magazine in the waiting room of a dentist, Doyoung was a closed encyclopedia in the darkest part of an abandoned library. He never knew what made both brothers so virtually different, especially when they shared most of the same childhood.

Doyoung hugs him back with the same awkward movements. There's something missing about his father's hug, Doyoung can't exactly pinpoint what it is but it feels like a hole, unfinished and incomplete.

“Hello, sir,” Jaehyun's baritone voice interrupts their shared moment, which Doyoung is grateful for. “I’m Jaehyun.”

Dohyun looks past Doyoung, to where Jaehyun is standing on the threshold, hands in his jacket’s pockets and a relaxed smile on his lips.

“Jaehyun?” his father stares at him, “As in…”

“My fiancé, yes.”

Jaehyun is not someone who gets nervous easily. Or so he likes to pretend, at least. A picture perfect of a level-headed university professor, cool and out-of-reach and untouchable. Doyoung knows him too well however, can see Jaehyun's pink, flushed ears as he smiles cooly at his father.

“Nice to finally meet you, sir.”

“He's better looking than I thought,” Gongmyung says as Jaehyun and Dohyun shake hands, the door closing behind them.

“Why is that?” should not be Doyoung's first words to a brother he hasn't seen in the flesh in years. But what else can he say? _ Hey, I missed you terribly, older brother. _ That wouldn't be true. _ Sorry that mom is dead and this is the first time I come back home since I was seventeen _doesn't seem to be any better.

Gongmyung only shrugs before shooting Jaehyun a fleeting glance over. “Truth be told, I was expecting you to stay unmarried for the rest of your life.”

“Me too,” Doyoung says into a silence that lasts a few pregnant seconds.

“Do you have any luggage?” Dohyun asks, eyeing the single suitcase Jaehyun is carrying.

“Only that one,” Doyoung takes off his coat, eyes finally settling on the walls of his childhood home. “We’re only staying until the weekend.”

“You’re leaving so soon.”

“Jaehyun and I have work.”

“It’s holiday season, what could the university be needing you for right now?”

“Let him be dad, Doyoung has work and a life far from here. I’m surprised he managed to come our little old village with his hectic schedule.”

“Gongmyung,” Doyoung starts with a warning. It sounds too much like his mother. He backs down, shrinking. “I’m… sorry about mom. What ever happened to her?”

“Heart attack,” Dohyun starts but Gongmyung cuts him off.

“I think you should go to your room and settle down. Jaehyun must be tired.”

“It’s ok,” Jaehyun shakes his head, “The drive wasn’t too long and it was Doyoung who did it anyway.”

“C’mon, Jae, I still want to change clothes. I’ll show you to my room.”

“Your brother and I will be in the kitchen. We’re making pasta and pumpkin bread for dinner.”

It goes unsaid but Doyoung still remembers: those were his mother’s favorites. He has to commend both of them. It wasn’t like Doyoung was expecting his dad to be a crying, depressed mess but he’s faring much better than he would’ve thought. Gongmyung is bottling it all up, Doyoung can tell, he’s trying to look tough in front of Doyoung, whom he probably hates.

“Well, that was something,” Jaehyun says as Doyoung leads him to his childhood room. There have been minor changes to the house, like the wallpaper and lamps and flower vases, but most of it has stayed the same. A warm home, with framed pictures on the walls and wooden floorboards.

“I knew it was going to be awkward. I can't wait to leave.”

Doyoung flicks the light switch on, revealing a dark, dusty room. Band posters are stuck on the wall, even after all this time, and his comic book collection is still in his old bookshelf.

“You were a nerd,” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. “And by no means I’m surprised.”

“I can't believe everything is the same,” Doyoung walks along the room, his heavy shoes against the floor making too much noise. Everything seems smaller, but then again, he did grow several inches since he was seventeen.

“Are we going to fit in your bed? I feel like it's going to break,” Jaehyun sits down on the twin sized bed, lightly bouncing on it.

“Of course we will. We just can't move too much.”

“Schucks.”

He leaves the keys on the bedside drawer, then Doyoung peeks his head out into the hallway. “Can you unpack? I need to go pee.”

“Take your time, babe,” Jaehyun says, looking at the bookshelf with curiosity. He turns to him and smiles, “I’m here, Doyoung, ok?”

Doyoung nods because amongst everything in his life, he knows that Jaehyun is the best.

He sees the pristine white door as he walks the narrow hallway. It's not the bathroom, but his parent's room. He remembers going in when he was little, when the thunderstorms were too loud and Doyoung didn't want to sleep alone. How he would cuddle in between them both, just a little closer to his mom, the smell of sweet lavender wrapping around him, lulling him to sleep.

Now he steps in and the smell of lavender is gone. The room is dark and humid, Doyoung thinks his father probably hasn't slept in the room since his wife passed away. Doyoung sighs, closing the door behind him. He lost a mother, but his father lost the love of his life. Doyoung cannot begin to comprehend what he would do without Jung Jaehyun.

He takes a few cautious steps, slow, as if being too loud will somehow disrespect his mother’s memory.

He exhales. “Sorry I wasn't here,” Doyoung clears his throat. “I should’ve called. Probably. Although maybe that would've killed you sooner.”

There's silence, of course there is. He sits on the bed, not bothering to turn on the light. “You would've liked Jaehyun. Everyone likes Jaehyun. But he's nice, and honest and so good. He likes to _talk things through _whenever he’s upset. Sometimes he smokes too much but I don't think you would've minded, not when he's also a great cook.” His voice breaks. “_God_, you would've loved Jaehyun, you would've loved Jaehyun more than me.”

A wave of air hits him, a slight aroma fills his nostrils. Doyoung closes his eyes in an attempt to recognize the smell.

At first it's sweet, familiar, like thunderstorms and blankets and being eight years old. But something’s not right as Doyoung keeps his eyes closed. Lavender. And something else - something rotten.

He wants to keep his eyes closed, he wants to more than anything but Doyoung needs to _ go_. He needs to get out of there right now. The heavy breathing on the other side of the room is driving him crazy.

He bolts out of there as fast as he can. The only thing Doyoung sees is a set of eyes and a tongue.

He slams the door, runs out of there, through the hallway, down the stairs and out the front door. His hand never leaves his mouth, an attempt to choke up a yell.

The gray skies of Bedrock are unmoving and the wisteria tree in front of his house seems to sway with the breeze, taunting with a melancholic dance. He realizes too late that Jaehyun and Gongmyung probably heard the running steps inside the house, the slamming of the door. He’ll worry about shooting a message later, right now all he cares about is running. He doesn’t know where his legs are taking him, it doesn’t really matter. Doyoung just lets go, the clench in his stomach sharp and painful.

He reaches a corner, right by the Moretti convenience store, in the little alleyway next to it, the one teenagers used to make out back in the day; make out or punch the lights out of each other.

Doyoung retches. There isn’t much, he hadn’t eaten anything before leaving Boston, but the acidic bile stings his throat all the same, leaving a bitter taste in his tongue. “Fuck,” he curses, still bent over, hands on his knees and spit on his lips.

This isn’t possible, he’s been in Bedrock less than a few hours and Doyoung is already regretting ever deciding to come back.

“Hey,” someone calls, “Are you ok there?”

No he’s not ok, all he wants is a taxi that takes him back to Boston, back to his home. “Got any water?” he asks instead, turning to face the street. Doyoung’s words die in his throat.

There’s silence, almost a full minute of it. Doyoung doesn’t say anything and the man in front of him, wide-eyed and petrified, doesn’t either. A sole car drives by. Breaking the silence in the otherwise quiet street. “Doyoung.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement. Speaking his name into existence.

“Ten.” He says back.

“You’re taller, huh?” Ten doesn't blink, nodding slowly, as if seeing a ghost. He is, thinks Doyoung. "Your dad, uh, he called me yesterday. Said you were coming to Bedrock. Didn't expect to find you retching in the street, though."

Doyoung hums in agreement, trying to wipe at any vomit that might've stuck to his face, "Yeah. I'm here for the funeral."

"Right." He holds onto the small plastic bag in his hand. Ten was probably shopping at Moretti's before finding Doyoung, "Sorry about that by the way. Your mom was always so nice. I remember her bibimbap."

Doyoung remembers it vividly too, even if Ten probably had his mother's dish more recently than him. "I'll see you at the funeral then?"

"Of course."

It astounds Doyoung how little Ten has changed over a decade. He's still short, he never really grew in height that much, at least not like Doyoung, who managed to spring up. He recalls they were around the same height back in their high school days. Unlike Doyoung, however, Ten had always been admired for his face, pretty and unblemished and so radically different from the other students. He still holds his delicate features, a gentle nose and cat-like eyes. A fine mouth and sharp cheekbones. Stark hair and hard stare. This was Ten alright. Doyoung could also see the small lines in his face, minimal, but still there, proof that more than a decade had passed since they last saw each other.

"Most of the town thinks you're dead, you know?" Ten says, fiddling with his bag, "At least that's what the general consensus was. That you died and that's why they never saw you again. Kinda funny, to be honest. I didn't correct them and neither did your family."

"Will they think I'm a ghost then?"

"Sounds fun," Ten shrugs. After a beat, a small smile forms in his lips. "It's nice seeing you. You look proper with your fancy coat and everything."

"It was a gift. You look good too, Ten."

Ten nods. Maybe a few years ago he would've made a quip with an _ of course. _Doyoung isn't too sure what this older version of Ten would say, especially with an awkward barrier between them. "Well, I have to go," Ten says before looking at the sky for a brief second, "But, um, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, of course."

"And go home. I think it's going to rain soon."

∾

Doyoung has never minded suits. He doesn't particularly like wearing them outside of work related affairs, but he's always appreciated how they help him look older, more professional, more serious. No one takes young psychologists seriously, especially older, balding men.

This time, Doyoung can't help but absolutely hate his suit and tie. To say he's suffocating would be an understatement.

"You're fidgeting," Gongmyung says out loud, his own gray suit almost a twin to Doyoung's, "You need to relax, people are watching you."

"Why do you think I'm fucking nervous?" Doyoung snaps back, "They're here for a funeral, not the stupid Doyoung Kim circus."

"Boys," Dohyun warns them. "The priest is talking."

Doyoung feels nine years old and Gongmyung is suddenly twelve and the only difference between back then and now is that his mother isn't there to laugh at their antics. No, she's in a closed coffin, a few meters in front of them.

He's right though, this is a funeral, the people there should be paying attention to old priest Namara, not at Doyoung. He thinks back to what Ten told him yesterday, about most of them thinking Doyoung died.

Bedrock is small, especially when you were born and raised there, especially when your family has lived there for three generations. They're not a close-knit community, or at least they had never been back when Doyoung lived there. But oh, how they loved to be in each other's business. Everyone knew everyone, and when news that the youngest Kim child, that frail and sick boy, had suddenly disappeared, of course word would spread around.

Doyoung is glad his parents never entertained gossip or fed the tittle-tattles of Bedrock. Now he can walk around the town and everyone thinks he's come back from the dead.

"I'm sure they're looking at you because you got really hot," Jaehyun whispers into his ear, "And you came back with a hot boyfriend too."

"Probably," Doyoung nods. He tunes out whatever the priest is saying, he cares none about generic catholic words and wonders if anyone else actually cares about them. Maybe his father, he'd never been much of a religious man, but he'd always listen to others speak. Gongmyung certainly isn't. He’s too much of a nervous wreck, especially with a eulogy to give. Not for the first time, Doyoung is glad he's the youngest child. Dead people can't give eulogies, he supposes.

It's not long before Gongmyung stands up, his tall frame walking towards the wooden rostrum. Doyoung looks at Rosie, Gongmyung's wife, who nods at his husband with supportive murmurs. Next to her is their son, three year old Jacob. Doyoung had scoffed at the english name and he thinks that's one of the reasons why Gongmyung hadn't introduced Doyoung to his nephew for the first time before the funeral began.

"My mother was a bright woman, a light in the darkness." Gongmyung starts. Doyoung cannot bear to listen to this either. He doesn't know what his brother has prepared to say and honestly, he doesn't care. He doesn't care for words that are meant for others, this is not for their mom, this is for the town.

Doyoung sighs, silently, lest he gets another stare from his father or looks of disapproval from Mrs. Lee, who is sitting on the pew behind him. He stares on ahead, at Gongmyung, but he's not really looking at him. He thinks back to yesterday afternoon, in his mother's bedroom.

For a while, Doyoung tried to convince himself he was just tired. A combination of the long drive, sleep deprivation, and a overall sense of dread from having to step foot into Bedrock once again. Doyoung isn't dumb, however, he knows better. He knows a few days ago, back in his home in Boston, what he encountered wasn't a bad dream either.

Last night he went back home to find Jaehyun helping his father with dinner, no one mentioned Doyoung's abrupt disappearance, for which he was grateful. He was in no mood for lies or excuses or worse, the truth.

Doyoung's body freezes, a feeling of dread chills his bones. His chest constricts. He's back isn't he? Doyoung is back in Bedrock and so is he and this was all a fucking mistake.

_ Back? _The deep rumble of a voice echoes in Doyoung's head. A voice of nightmares.

When he looks up, a horned beast is standing at the altar.

"Fuck this," he says, making his father and Jaehyun turn to him in question. He shakes his head. "I can't do this," he stands up, he can feel all the eyes on him. The priest's, the unshakeable eyes of the townspeople, Jaehyun's, the beast's. When he looks up everything is dizzy and only five set of eyes matter. Doyoung walks away in strides. At this point, he doesn't care what everyone else thinks of him, he just can't be inside that church anymore.

His legs, just like yesterday, move on their own. This time, however, he knows where he's going before he gets there. The road is painfully familiar: take the main street up until the petrol station, take the right, where there is no road. Down the hill full of greenery where dirt meets sand, past the hickory trees and rosebud bushes. Don't stop when you see the fishing docks, walk past them and don't let any of the fishermen see you, they're always nosy and will tell your mothers where you are. No, walk way past them, hiding behind the trees until you can't see them anymore. The sand will get whiter with each step you take, cleaner, because people usually don't walk this way. The tide gets high and wild as the sun sets, no one likes to swim or fish around here. You stop when you can see the small sea stack a few meters away from land. That's where you can sit, that's where you can enjoy the purple sunset at seven pm, the only color in between gray and black Bedrock skies. That's where you can enjoy roasting s'mores at a badly-done campfire, where you can feel happiness as the fire's warmth reaches your fingertips and you think you have it all in the world.

Doyoung walks up to the shore, his suit and hair now full of sand and mud. He falls to his knees, the soft sand underneath cushioning the fall.

There's something about the ocean's unmistakable scent that brings comfort to Doyoung. It's different from the now familiar Boston harbor, this is childhood, teenage years.

He takes off his tie, tossing it to the side without care. Doyoung lets the breeze calm his breathing, dry the tear streaks on his face. Smells like salt and wood.

"Shit," he says out loud, "Bedrock is still the worst."

"It is, isn't it?"

Doyoung whips his head around. Ten is there again, his own hair swept away by the wind, his tie completely undone. And a wild grin adorns his face in a way that makes Doyoung stare. Right now, Ten doesn't look a day older than seventeen.

"Did you follow me?" he asks, Ten sits next to him, his grin undeterred. He looks so different from the nervous and fidgety man from yesterday. Adrenaline always did bring out the best in Ten.

"Yes. I don't remember you being that fucking fast."

"Well, when you want to run away from such a stuffy place your body takes over."

Ten hums in agreement, "That was bad, man. I hate quiet places like those. Especially when it's filled with old people judging you. I could tell Jeff was staring at my piercings again. What's wrong with him?"

"They're nice," Doyoung gives them a onceover, Ten's ears filled with silver jewelry, "You have a lot more than before."

"Once you start you never stop." He looks at Doyoung's ears, "It's a shame we never managed to convince you to get one. You were the only one who refused to."

"No thanks," Doyoung laughs at the memory, "You were piercing everyone with a fucking needle and a piece of cloth for the blood."

"The needle was clean, it was perfectly safe. Nothing ever happened, you wuss.”

"With my luck it would've been me who lost an ear."

"True," Ten admits. He looks on at the sight in front of them. The sun is setting, the gray sky is turning purple just like Doyoung remembers. "Haven't been here in forever."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's not like I have a lot of time, you know? But even when I do, I never feel like coming around. It's a shame, it's a great spot to nap."

The waves crash at the shore, the tide becoming stronger as night approaches. Doyoung looks on, drawn by the hypnotic sound. He brings his knees close to him. "What about the others?"

Ten raises an eyebrow, "The others?"

"Do they come here, I mean." Truth be told, Doyoung doesn't even know if they still live here in Bedrock. They were all at the funeral though, he saw them all there.

"I don't know," Ten shrugs, "Why don't you ask them?"

Doyoung furrows his eyebrows, confused for a second. But then Ten turns around, grin back in his face as he lifts his hand up, waving it against the strong air. "Stop staring and come join us, losers."

Four figures against the background greet Doyoung. All in the same state of disarray, their formal clothes all rustled from the beach wind. Taeyong, Johnny, Joy, Jungwoo.

Doyoung's heart swells because, despite everything, Bedrock still has the best people on earth.

"Doyo!" Johnny waves back, taking his shoes off before running towards them, sand scattering everywhere.

Joy follows suit, running as she tries lifting up her skirt. Jungwoo and Taeyong are careful, but Doyoung still sees their smiles as they make way to him and Ten, careful not to slide down the slope of sand.

There's only six people in the world who can call the little place by the red sea stack _ theirs_. And somehow, they're all there again, eleven years later.

Doyoung, at least for a little bit, forgets about The Goatman.

The waves crash against the shore, wild and cold. It's just that The Goatman doesn't forget about them, he never forgets about his favorite children.

∾

**Author's Note:**

> i know there's a lot of unsaid and unexplained things right now but in the next chapters everything will be a little more clear. thanks for reading!
> 
> kudos and comments are appreciated!!!
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ten_taeil) and [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/nakamoon)


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